


New Beginnings

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Jim, Omega Verse, Original Character(s), Pre and Post Reichenbach, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-05 20:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11585808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: Sherlock and Jim are meant to be together. Their romance is abrupt, unexpected but life changing for both men. But for a happy ending some things need to be taken care of first.





	1. Sherlock and his Omega

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the prelude to the Reichenbach Fall and the two years (and many more years) afterwards.

“What the fuck!” 

Sherlock nearly topples backwards as his visitor falls right on him, leaning on him with his full weight. 

Sherlock is not a man to be taken aback easily or get perturbed by a sudden arrival at his flat. But this is different. The sudden and unannounced arrival is that of none other than the consulting criminal mastermind Jim Moriarty, his arch enemy, and the man is literally clinging to him with both hands and muttering something. He reminds Sherlock of a man who is about to fall off a cliff and, in a bid to stay alive, holding on for dear life to a rock precipice. He tries to listen and all he can make of the man’s whispered, feverish, moaned-out mutterings is ‘Hottt so hot help….please help mee….please!’

“Moriarty…” 

“Sherly….hottt.” 

“I know I am.” 

“N-No, m-me.” 

“I agree with that too. You are pretty and hot.” 

Jim’s sweaty, pale face twists in anger and he smacks Sherlock on the face. Sherlock startles and raises a hand to smack him back but he isn’t someone who’s used to violence without reason. He can’t bring himself to slap this man who clearly seems to be in pain and distress. “Don’t smart-mouth me you bastard,” Jim Moriarty snarls, then he doubles over in pain and falls on the floor. His skin is burning and he is sweating buckets. “Hurts,” he hisses.

“Oh shit,” Sherlock curses, “Damn it, what’s wrong with….”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish. He smells it, smells the other man’s pheromones and arousal. Ten deductions done instantly. His head buzzes with information overload and the shock of realizations, one after the other. 

1\. Jim Moriarty is an omega.   
2\. He has been on heat suppressants, which is why this time it’s a full blown intense heat after many years of suppressing them.   
3\. Moriarty has also been disguising himself with Alpha scents so nobody would know.   
4\. He is on heat now, obviously, and in a lot of pain and need.   
5\. There is no way he can kick this man out, criminal or not, in this state. He would be taken apart by his own bodyguards and any random alpha on the streets.   
6\. Moriarty must have come to him as a last resort because there is no way he’d expose himself to someone who could take advantage of him. He has placed his trust on Sherlock this way.   
7\. Smelling Jim and holding him close has been his own undoing. He is now raging hard.   
8\. He wants to fuck Jim several times a day, every day, for the next week.   
9\. He cannot let Mycroft know, that would be dangerous for Jim. Inhuman to do that in his present condition.  
10\. God, now he is calling Moriarty as Jim. This is a bit not good. 

“Sherly,” Jim whines and Sherlock feels his cock jump in his pants. 

He looks so vulnerable now, so pale and dependent, like he needs Sherlock more than the air around him. He is still on the floor, reaching out feebly towards the detective with both hands and Sherlock sees the slick soaking into the pants of his expensive Hugo Boss suit. He smells like a whorehouse would to a sailor who has spent two years in sea and Sherlock all but mauls his clothes off as he picks him up in his arms and rushes towards the bedroom. He comes back for a moment, shuts the door and bolts it. For the first time he is glad John is away for a week on a medical conference and a short stay with one of his army buddies in Edinburgh. 

***

Sherlock has had sex. With two women, one of them Ms Adler (if getting beaten and getting off on that is sex, he is still confused about it) and the other one a girl from his University days. She was smitten with him and Sherlock was drunk. He doesn’t remember much. 

His only experience with a man was also a Uni mate, Victor Trevor, who was a beta and had agreed to get into bed with Sherlock because the latter wanted to ‘explore’. It had been a few times, off and on, and never had Sherlock felt the need to repeat that experience. 

But as he sinks into Jim’s tight slick heat, hears his moans rise and watches him writhing beneath him in complete abandon, he understands for the first time why people enjoy sex so much. He thrusts hard, relentlessly, brutally and Jim takes it all so well, in fact he revels in that rough treatment. Sherlock bites and sucks and nips at his skin, leaving marks all over and Jim is still begging for more. He feels overwhelmed and scared for a few minutes, as if he is about to sink into an abyss he can never come out of ever. But then the fall is sweet and welcoming and filled with pleasure and he gives in to his body’s needs 

His big fat Alpha knot forms and Jim comes all over him, letting out a howl of his name. 

Sherlock stores away that sight and sound in his mind palace. 

They lie there, panting together, still connected as the knot would take some time to deflate. Sherlock absentmindedly mouths Jim’s neck as he spoons him. He feels Jim going slack in his arms and hears his breathing even out. 

Despite his wishes to think through this and perhaps regret it lots, Sherlock falls asleep as well. 

***

When he wakes up he feels no regret, only an overwhelming urge to feed and take care of his omega. No, not his omega, he hadn’t bonded yet. Maybe it’s not a great idea. 

There is no food in the house. He curses himself for not listening to John and shopping for some groceries. Quickly he heads to the nearest Waitrose to buy a few items. He can manage for a few days, cooking some and ordering some take-outs. But Jim needs to eat. 

He returns home with huge bags of groceries to find a panic-stricken Mrs. Hudson trying to fend off three alpha men with her old shotgun, one which doesn’t even work anymore. But thanks to that rusty weapon and her reasonably loud threats, the alphas haven’t managed to get to Jim. Sherlock chases them off and they back off, though one makes a pointed remark that the omega they could smell was an unbonded omega. Sherlock shouts a ‘not for long’ in his Alpha voice, and rushes upstairs to find Jim cowering in a corner of the bedroom, still naked, holding a gun with both hands. He smiles a little when he sees Sherlock. 

“Relax,” he soothes him and holds him in his arms, “I am here now.” 

“Sherly….they will rape me.” 

“Not if they smell me on you.” 

They land in bed again and this time when Jim is riding him, making all those wanton sounds of nearing his climax, Sherlock growls and thrusts up into him, before pulling him down and giving him a hard bond bite. He tastes blood and becomes almost like an animal, fucking the smaller man in the stupor of a rut. Their combined pheromones fill the air with a heady fragrance and Jim passes out in his arms after he comes hard. 

***

Days pass and Sherlock feels the bond growing stronger between them. They literally spend all day and night in bed, wrapped up together, unable to leave each other even for a second. When Sherlock takes a leak, Jim stands right behind him. When Jim brushes his teeth, Sherlock stand next to him. 

He cooks happily for Jim, heaping his plate with different fares for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sliced poached halibut or salmon, grilled chicken or roasted beef, buttery mashed potatoes, steamed veggies and fresh salad, scrambled or boiled eggs, soup, bread, pasta. 

Jim speaks very little initially. He seems lost sometimes but comes back to Sherlock the moment the detective nudges him a little. When they are a bit relaxed and a couple of days have passed, Jim talks about constellations, astronomy, wordplays and puzzles, plays chess with Sherlock or solves complicated mathematical problems. Sherlock talks about chemical formulas and experiments, medical breakthroughs, forensic science and past cases with the Scotland Yard which have gone unsolved. They are never bored, they never run out of topics to talk on, they never leave each other alone. 

“I killed three of my men, two bodyguards and a chauffeur,” Jim says as they lie in their ‘nest’ one night, “Sebastian used to protect me but he’s off on a mission. I employ only Alphas and didn’t want them to know I am an omega.” 

The medicines didn’t work due to some other meds he had taken of late. They were taken to fend off a nasty bacterial infection to his skin which he had contacted during a trip to the Amazon rainforests last month. This heat was sudden and unexpected. 

When Sherlock asks him why he had chosen to come here, Jim gives him a duh look and says he is the only other person he knows and trusts in London. Though shocked initially, Sherlock knows this is the truth. Jim had always thought Sherlock was special, his obsession with Sherlock had always been rooted in fascination for the man and his comments about the two of them being two sides of the same coin had been utterly and totally true. He actually believes this and the way he has placed his faith on Sherlock to help him tide over his heat shows he walks the talk here. Sherlock feels flattered, warm and fuzzy, just like when he is praised for his genius by John or when he solves a complicated case. 

Except that in this case that warm feeling stays on and doesn’t dissipate. 

He kisses Jim’s head and wraps the blanket tighter around them as they watch cricket on the telly. Jim feels so right, so warm and so perfect in his arms. 

***

A week passes and so does the heat. Sherlock comes home after refusing to work on yet another case for Mycroft. The powerful elder Holmes has begun to suspect something is wrong and tells him ‘I am watching you Sherlock’ before the detective leaves. 

Sherlock scowls and says ‘Can you be creepier than that’ and leaves. 

He sees Jim standing there clad in the same suit, shirt and boots he had arrived in exactly seven days ago. Sherlock had jogged down to a dry cleaner’s some days ago to get express cleaning service done for the soiled suit. Now Jim is all dressed in it, ready to leave. “I have to go now Sherlock,” the omega says softly, looking away as if he dare not hold the detective’s gaze, “My heat is over and I think you will need your space too. I really appreciate all you have done for me. If I can ever repay, please let me know and I will. Jim Moriarty is not ungrateful.”

Sherlock wants to stop him. The alpha in him doesn’t want to lose this pretty omega.

No Jim don’t go.   
We can’t be apart now, we have bonded.   
Can I not move in with you?  
How will I live without you now? 

But he knows he has cases to solve, an angry elder brother to pacify, John would be coming back soon and Jim has a criminal web to manage. They are star crossed. This has to end. 

“Take care,” he says in a voice that’s barely steady, “If you text me, I will text you back. You can also call sometimes.” 

“Bye Sherlock,” Jim kisses his cheek and leaves through the door. 

Sherlock stands there bewildered and broken, lost and lonely. Everything in the flat has changed for him. Nothing is the same as they used to be. Jim’s unique smells and their combined scents are everywhere now. Many of his clothes have been worn by Jim and they would forever remind him of their time together. The kitchen plates and cutlery also remind him of Jim and their shared meals on that table. He sees an image of Jim sitting on the couch and laughing at a show. He hears the man singing in the shower but when he opens the door to the bathroom there is nobody. 

Sherlock doesn’t dare sleep in his bedroom that night. 

John comes back the following morning and finds him on the couch, eyes open and a blank stare directed at the wall.


	2. Jim and his Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's view of how things happened between him and Sherlock

Jim senses something is wrong the moment he enters the meeting. He was perfectly fine in the morning and had been all prepared for this meeting, when the first bead of sweat trickles down his brow and he feels a twinge down there. 

Then his cock begins to leak and he curses under his breath. 

He continues the meeting and excuses himself to the bathroom twice, to spray alpha cologne on himself. This will do for now, but not for long. The folks at the meeting, his clients, his men, all were fucking alphas. Some of them have the hots for him even though they think he is an alpha as well. He has to be in his house and in the safe room there, one Sebastian had made for him some time ago. ‘Just in case’, the sniper had told him and Jim had laughed then. Now he was laughing at himself for being so stupid and obtuse. The meds had not worked for the first time in sixteen years. He was going into heat. 

He finishes the meeting but by the end of it people notice he is not his usual self. He makes up for that by being extra surly and rude to them. By now his arse is coated with slick and the damn fluid is beginning to drip out. He is breathless and his skin feels like hot charcoal. 

As he tries to stagger out of the boardroom two of his bodyguards come lunging at him, making odd noises. Harebrained alphas who have no doubt smelled him and have gone crazy with desire and a need to become his mate. Stupid, stupid alphas. 

He shoots them dead and the third bodyguard, a beta, quickly helps him to his car. Suddenly he is shot dead and the new alpha chauffeur comes at him. He manages to hug Jim and suck for a moment on the exposed part of his long neck but makes a choked sound and collapses. 

Jim has stabbed him. 

He can’t drive like this so he manages to somehow reach a destination close by, hoping he doesn’t get attacked on the street. An alpha woman tries but he hits her on the head, knocking her out, and continues his pained journey. 

221B Baker Street. 

***

Jim wakes up to the smell of Alphas. Many of them. He panics and looks for Sherlock. 

He feels used and abused, tears form in the corners of his eyes and he hates himself for being so weak, but then he is still in heat, an unbonded omega who has been freshly fucked and then…..abandoned. 

He hears the old lady downstairs trying to fend them off. He is still in Sherlock’s bedroom but the detective is nowhere to be seen. He has left him and gone after fucking him through his first flush of heat. How stupid was he to think Sherlock would not let him down. He lands on the floor because his knees are too wobbly, his arse feels sore and his vision is still blurry. But he is Moriarty after all and manages to grab his gun even in this state. However, he is also a scared omega, and that makes him cower in the corner of the room. He is still there when the commotion stops downstairs and he hears footsteps entering the flat. Any moment now, any moment he could be raped and left to die there, bleeding. Or be hauled off by some possessive alpha to their own den. 

But when the door opens only one man walks in, Sherlock Holmes. 

Jim smiles slightly. His Sherly had not let him down. Sherlock was surely taken aback when he had made that sudden and dramatic entry but he had recovered soon enough and taken care of Jim’s needs. He had fucked him and knotted him, let him sleep in his arms, on his bed. He was an alpha and naturally Jim’s scent had turned him on but he had been surprisingly accommodating of Jim’s condition and done nothing abusive or possessive that a regular alpha would do. He had not even bonded with him, something an alpha in a state of rut induced daze would find very difficult not to do. And now he had come back to him, fended off other alphas and come back to protect him.

The tall alpha soothes and calms him, takes him back to bed. He confesses his fear of being raped and Sherlock assures him that wouldn’t happen if their scents mingled together. 

They bond afterwards. Jim feels no pain, only immense pleasure and a great deal of calmness and sanity descending upon him like a comforting blanket. When Sherlock laps at the blood on his neck and their scents mix together, he clutches Sherlock with arms and legs and breathes him in. 

***

Sherlock cooks for him, brings juice and coffee in bed, lets him sleep as long as his body needs it and reads to him when he is uncomfortable from an approaching itch. Their life is sickeningly domestic but he enjoys it. 

He is still worried about the sudden heat though and asks his deputy Sebastian Moran to find out what it is. The sniper does his bit even while taking out targets in Hungary and sends him a text in two days. 

“Boss I found out what caused this. Those antibiotics and steroids you had to take for the skin rashes last month when we came back from Brazil, those interfered with the heat suppressants. Spoke to the doctor, he said you should not take suppressants for the next three cycles as they wouldn’t be of any use for a while. Those heats will be shorter though, two or four days, not the seven day one you’re going through now. Don’t worry, for your next three cycles I will be around to protect you – S A M.” 

Jim is grateful for the ever-loyal Sebby’s offer to protect him but it’s too late for that. As he lies with his head on Sherlock’s chest and wonders if he’d ever manage to handle any heat without Sherlock around him, he knows he has landed himself into a self-created trap. 

Between amazing fucks and long periods of napping after their rather enjoyable couplings, he gets coddled and cuddled by Sherlock and also finds time to play chess with the latter. Sometimes he discusses things of his interest with the alpha, sometimes Sherlock discusses interests of his own, and they are remarkably similar in some way. When Sherlock is not looking, he steals glances at the man and imagines himself waking up next to him for the rest of his life. 

The imagination doesn’t make him laugh, turn up his nose or even consider it silly. It seems real and very possible. 

He reveals a lot to Sherlock. Tells him why his heat happened and why he had left home, he speaks about his math teacher back at school and why he hates sleeping in the dark. Sherlock doesn’t judge, just listens. Later, when Jim is sure he has spoken too much, Sherlock begins to tell his own tales. How John fathers him and doesn’t really view him sexually, how patronizing Mycroft can be, how many violins he had broken when he couldn’t get a composition right. They talk and they talk and Jim realizes he is no longer the unstable, suicidal man anymore. If anything, he is scared to die now, just because death would mean he would never see Sherlock again. 

Sherlock is his alpha now, his presence and scent soothes him, and he starts to clutch his shirt and sleep when the man is in the kitchen or in another room. 

He makes many demands on the man and not one is turned down. 

“I want ice cream, it’s too hot.” It’s 1 am and Sherlock obediently trots off to get some from a store about two miles away. 

“I want my suit cleaned and delivered in 24 hours.” Sherlock manages to get it for him in ten hours instead. 

“I am sore there, can’t walk.” Sherlock carries him around the flat and even stays in the bathroom when he needs to take a shit. He sends him out but the detective lingers just outside, not grossed out at all as he whines about how much the place hurts while shitting. 

As his heat is about to pass and they have fucked for what seems like the last time, Jim cries a little. Sherlock, exhausted from taking care of Jim’s bodily needs and other needs, sleeps peacefully next to him, his hand loosely gripping Jim’s neck. 

***

“My heat is over and I think you will need your space too. I really appreciate all you have done for me. If I can ever repay, please let me know and I will. Jim Moriarty is not ungrateful.”

His voice is hoarse and he hopes Sherlock attributes that to their screaming orgasms the night before. Stop me Sherlock, tell me to stay, tell me I can stay, tell me this will work, tell me this doesn’t need to end here when it feels so good, so right, so amazing!

But Sherlock doesn’t do that. He answers slowly, his green eyes fixed on Jim and a slight distortion in the pupils. “Take care. If you text me, I will text you back. You can also call sometimes.” That sounds like ‘I will let you decide if you want to stay in touch’ and a polite way of saying goodbye. Jim can’t hold it against him. This was too sudden, too unplanned, too odd. Even if this feels right, it can’t be the right thing to do. In any case, a one sided relationship is never healthy. 

He says bye and leaves after kissing Sherlock on the cheek. 

His old faithful chauffeur is back and so is Sebastian. They are waiting for him downstairs as he comes out of 221B and sneaks into the expensive Maybach. Sebastian does a quick check on him to ensure he is fine and pointedly ignores the bond bite mark, the light purple bruises, scratches and other little marks. He declares Jim to be otherwise healthy but insists on a complete medical checkup. Their trusted doctor, a formidable but loyal lady named Marianne, is apparently already waiting at the house. The chauffeur says he has employed another beta chauffeur as a replacement for the one that died trying to claim Moriarty. 

“Less alphas,” Sebastian echoed, “More betas. The alphas who stay will be thoroughly background checked and put on some form of suppressants. You can’t be safe otherwise.” 

Jim half listens to them and half wonders if all of this even feels real anymore. In the past he has slipped in and out of various avatars but this one avatar has stuck. Sherlock’s omega, his mate, his partner. 

And now, after going through his first heat since the age of eighteen, his head feels remarkably clear. No birds chirping, no muddled anger, no huge desire to do something disruptive and dangerous. 

Another day he would have leaned against Sebastian, his loyal and faithful and dependable Sebastian. But today he can’t do that. It feels like cheating on Sherlock. Sebastian is also an alpha but a heterosexual alpha. His love for Jim is purely platonic and it’s nothing more than a bromance. Yet Jim can’t bring himself to allow the physical proximity that once was a regular and everyday affair. 

“Boss you ok?” Sebastian asks. Jim notes that the chauffeur is also looking at them through the rear-view mirror, concern evident on his face. 

Jim nods but doesn’t answer them. He doesn’t even know what ok means anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh men will be men, don't talk just assume assume assume! Someone will intervene and break the deadlock in the next chapter, I promise!
> 
> And S A M stands for Sebastian Augustus Moran :)


	3. Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The initial ecstasy over, it hits him from all sides. 
> 
> The smell. 
> 
> The change in his mate’s natural scent.

A month passes agonizingly slow and Sherlock watches his phone, watches the door, watches the street for any signs of Jim paying him a visit. A lot of people he sees on Baker Street, a number of people walk in through his door and a few people text him but none of them is Jim. He solves cases, works like a machine, stays immersed in his experiments, tries to delete Jim’s memories from his brain but nothing works. Absolutely nothing works. 

Instead Jim occupies more and more wings of his mind palace till he can’t get in there without seeing Jim in one of the rooms, corridors, stairways, turrets or terraces. For the first time in his life, he is scared to get into his mind palace because seeing Jim there is painful. 

He doesn’t do drugs. Somehow, he feels a bit of shame even contemplating that. Jim had told him during one of their nights together that he hates addictions and Sherlock feels self-directed disgust every time he thinks about crack. He tries to have other things, like cough syrup, cigarettes, chocolates. Nope, not working. Hallucinations and vivid dreams capture and torture his mind all the time. Every footstep on the staircase sounds like Jim coming upstairs, every creak of the door feels like his hand on the doorknob, every laughter on the street sounds like him giggling at one of Sherlock’s witty jokes. 

John is troubled by his condition, Mycroft is worried, a clueless Lestrade seems concerned nonetheless. More days pass and Sherlock becomes an island, surrounded by silence.

It’s only Mrs. Hudson who knows and one day she discreetly asks him, “Do you love him or hate him?” 

“How does that matter, don’t bore me Mrs. Hudson, get me tea,” he snaps. 

“Whether you love him or hate him, he still owns you,” she replies, not minding his tone even a bit, “If you love him he owns your heart and if you hate him he owns your mind.”

Strike one. 

Sherlock sighs and buries his face in his hands. “He just came to me in need, he doesn’t need me anymore it seems.” 

“Why do you feel that?” 

“He hasn’t contacted me.” 

“Have you contacted him?” 

Sherlock startles and looks at her. Suddenly she seems far cleverer and sorted out than he is. His cheeks redden and he shakes his head. “Then you know what to do my dear,” she replies with a knowing smile, “If he responds all is well and if he doesn’t, at least you have your closure.” 

Sherlock sniffles and nods, “I will.” 

She goes to get him tea and Sherlock pulls out his phone from his pocket and starts texting. 

***

Jim sits in front of what feels like ‘his entire life spread out across the room’. There is a huge world map on the wall, a smaller but prominent map of UK, a separate map of his web and the locations it was spread across. The table is filled with files, papers, laptops, loose sheets, organizers, tablets. Several phones are buzzing as calls and messages pour in from all corners of the globe. There are several machines stacked against the wall, a dozen monitors mounted over them, giving him a glimpse of his surveillance network and exact locations of some clients and targets. His empire, his web, his gang of rough and dangerous men and women, something he had built since he was eighteen and a scrawny boy from Dublin. 

At thirty-four, he wants to walk away from it all. 

Jim’s greatest gift is his brain and his biggest curse is also that, his brain. The bug it had been hit with sixteen years ago had pushed him to create the most dangerous criminal web in the world and carve a name for himself that shook even the likes Mycroft Holmes. But he had not had a moment’s peace since he had started to tread on that path. In the initial days, as he studied at Oxford and got shining grades, there was some salvation as he got the intellectual stimulation he needed. But later everything had become a chore, every word spoken to him a noise, every moment spent counting his considerable wealth an absolutely boring drudgery. 

Now he knows it wasn’t just his brain playing truant with his moods. It was also the meds he had taken to appear Alpha and to suppress his heats. Over a period of time, his unbonded status and constant medication had had their savage side effects on his brain. 

Those seven days with Sherlock, giving in to his body’s natural cycle, bonding and mating, has made him feel like a seventeen-year old again. Half his age exactly. Now with no medications in his system, he feels even better. Lighter, more focused, less angst-ridden. He actually reconsiders killing children. He donates money to a welfare home for single mothers or pregnant single women who have no source of income. 

Sebastian watches him. He knows he is slowly being given the responsibility of the web. He knows what is coming up even if his boss doesn’t want to see the writing on the wall. He also knows he can’t handle this web without Moriarty. Maybe UK at the most, but not the world. He isn’t made for that, he is a sniper, a commander, a man who can execute orders to the T. Handling the overall web, making those plans, talking to most of the clients, that’s what Moriarty does so well, Sebastian can’t even hope to emulate him there. 

Jim suddenly starts retching and clutches at the arms of his chair, face pale. Sebastian jumps and hold the trash can in front of him as the man throws up his breakfast and slumps back on the chair, panting. 

“Call him for Christ’s sake, call him,” the lieutenant mutters but he knows his boss is too proud to do that. 

Suddenly a text lands on that phone, THAT phone, the one whose number Sherlock Holmes has. Both men lean over the phone to read the text. “Forty-five days, six hours and seventeen minutes as I type this, how have you been – Sherly.”

***

Sherlock smells him before he has even entered 221B and rushes upstairs, literally tripping over his coat (which he forgets to take off) and taking three steps at a time. He finds Jim Moriarty in their living room, sitting on Sherlock’s chair (he loves to do that) and chatting with a very smiley and delighted Mrs. Hudson. The detective wants to smile and greet his mate warmly but ends up letting out a choked sound of relief instead, eyes watery and hands shaking. Jim is here, Jim, his Jim, the omega, his bonded omega is really here, because he is sure as hell that he wasn't hallucinating about Mrs. Hudson being in the room and chatting with Jim. 

Mrs. Hudson squeezes his arm and walks out of the room, to give them privacy. 

Two seconds later Jim is in his arms. Sherlock stumbles backwards again, like he did when Jim had burst in through the door a month and half ago, in heat and desperate for an alpha. But this time there is no surprise or panic, just extreme happiness and satisfaction as he wraps the smaller man to his chest, letting him get lost in that embrace. He doesn’t tell Jim but he loves the difference in their height and build. He always wanted someone he could pick up easily and horse around with and Jim is perfect that way, short but not too short, slender but graceful, pretty and yet manly at so many levels. 

The initial ecstasy over, it hits him from all sides. 

The smell. 

The change in his mate’s natural scent. 

“You are fucking pregnant,” he mutters out the words that were stuck in his throat. 

Jim withdraws, suddenly apprehensive. His big brown eyes meet the wide blue-green eyes of the detective. “Tell me when and I will come with you,” Sherlock mutters, totally misinterpreting Jim’s bashfulness. 

Jim startles, “No, never. I will keep it. But it’s your child too so in case you want to see it later someday…..” 

Sherlock grabs him and pulls him closer, his eyes synonymous with authority and love. “You think I will let you keep our baby and not be with you, not look after you and him?” He puts his hand over Jim’s belly. He feels nothing of course, it’s only early days and Jim is wearing a suit, as usual, so there is nothing to feel. But Sherlock’s alpha instincts are on an overdrive and he can’t help but wonder how his little boy is doing in there. 

Jim swallows, “Sherly, I am so tired.” Sherlock instantly responds with, “I’ll ask Mrs. Hudson to get some soup. You need to eat. Then we can take a nap together because you look like death warmed over. Then we will talk. There is lots to talk about.” 

***

Sherlock doesn’t sleep. He watches as Jim naps next to him. He stares at the man’s stomach, wondering in his head how life was being created there. A life he had contributed to bringing into this world. He rubs the stomach (Jim is now bare bodied and wearing only boxers) and kisses it, feeling excited and nervous at the same time. A baby, their baby, his son, a little chip off the old block!!! He wonders if the boy would like him, he speculates over his mate’s pregnancy and the early days of the infant and makes up his mind to buy a parenting book. He feels drowsy sometimes but doesn’t dare sleep, lest he wakes up to find it all a dream. 

Jim wakes up hours later and stretches, then snuggles closer to him. It feels comforting, familiar, safe, it feels like home. 

The two nemesis turned mates make plans which would have sounded bizarre had it been just two months earlier. Sherlock realizes through Jim’s version of things that while Jim did have a macabre streak in him, it had been multiplied several times over by drugs in his system and the suppressed heats. Now as he is back to his natural self, he feels like just being Jim and doesn’t want Moriarty to return. Sherlock wants to get rid of Moriarty too and keep Jim, his Jim, with him forever. But there is work to do there, the web must be dismantled, Jim must be kept safe and therefore Moriarty has to be finished off. 

They make plans. They involve Sebastian of course because his help is needed. They also involve Mycroft because it needs his blessings and also because that man was the only one who could read through their game. 

Mycroft’s reaction is stoic but compassionate, well as compassionate as an Iceman could be. 

“I am not doing this for you,” he tells Sherlock coolly when the detective goes to see him, “I am doing this for the Holmes heir. I won’t have kids for sure and if you don’t either, the lineage expires. So yes, this is for my niece.” 

“Nephew. I will have a boy, we will have a boy.” 

“Niece.”

“Myc, please hurry up and tell me how to go about this instead of arguing with me. I have left Jim asleep in the flat. If John returns sooner than me he might just shoot him in his sleep.” 

Mycroft relents. “We have to stage your deaths. Of course you can come back after you have dismantled the web and the dust has settled here. But he can’t. He needs to be somewhere out of England. A new name, a new beginning, he can settle there with the girl.”

Sherlock is about to say ‘boy’ when he decides not to contradict his sibling for a change. 

“That sounds good to me,” he goes over the entire plan in his head, “It works well for everybody. I take Jim away from here and look after him during his pregnancy. His clients get to know he killed himself and his legacy is erased. I take his help, which he is willing to offer, to take down most parts of his web. Sebastian Moran keeps a small part of the web and you will stay in touch with him whenever you need some anarchy to be caused, for greater good and government interests. In return, you won’t arrest him or charge him for anything, ever. For John there will be a woman named Mary, one of Jim’s former associates who is now a respectable woman and a law abiding citizen. Mum and dad will feign grief till I return but they’ll be informed that I had to disappear due to work and Jim’s pregnancy.” 

“Of course Moria….Jim will have to do some work creating a showdown with you,” Mycroft adds, “To make the deaths look real and believable.” 

“Yes and quickly too,” Sherlock replies, “He can’t go on too long like this. He has extreme morning sickness, cravings at night, fatigue and soon he will start to show.” 

“Right,” Mycroft says noncommittally but on his phone he is looking at baby names, “Let’s finish this within the next two months.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Next few chapters will have too much 'too good to believe it's true' kind of fluff and happiness. You have been warned!


	4. James Junior and Shirlee Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two faked deaths and two real births

It works like magic. 

Jim creates a very believable story with Richard Brook and vilifies Sherlock to the point where even his nearest and dearest begin to suspect him. Sherlock plays along by playing victim and being reticent but angry about the whole thing. The stage is set at Barts rooftop. 

At first Sherlock is quite happy and amazed at his mate’s acting skills. He knows Mycroft’s men are watching, as are Jim’s dangerous associates, while they do their rooftop dance. It has to work, it has to look believable, it has to resonate with the story they are trying to portray so they can vanish together, Moriarty forever and Sherlock for at least two years. Jim raves and rants and for a second it is so real that Sherlock feels a nervous ball of fear in his stomach. It reminds him of the Moriarty by the poolside and not the sweet and lovable Jim he knows. But then something happens and he almost laughs at himself for doubting the truth of their current situation. 

Jim suddenly looks panicky. “Sherly, I am going to throw up.” 

“You forgot to eat.” 

“Yeah but I was getting late and there was no sauerkraut.” 

Sherlock resists a smile. If only people knew what they were really discussing. “Very soon you will have a nice meal of your favorite hamburger, fries, fresh juice and of course sauerkraut. But don’t throw up now love, it might make people feel they are missing something. If they begin to dig, all our well laid plans will go to waste. Quick come to the spot where the blood and brain matter bag has been left by Molly. You need to land precisely on that spot.” 

“You told Molly?” 

“We will discuss later.” 

“You told me you don’t like her that way.” 

“I still don’t….she is helping, I needed her help.” 

“You asshole….” 

“Jim you are insane.” 

“Oh you’re getting that now?” 

Mycroft is on the phone with them (both Jim and Sherlock have near invisible earphones on) and listening in. He intervenes in an exasperated voice, “Children please.” 

Suitably chastised, the two men focus on their job and execute it really well. 

Moriarty kills himself. Sherlock jumps to his death. Hours later Mycroft, Sebastian, Molly, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes see them off at a private airstrip outside London. Jim is gorging on candy and Mrs. Holmes hands him a huge jar of sauerkraut and tells Sherlock strictly not to eat even a single bite out of it. Molly hugs Sherlock and avoids Jim. Sherlock hugs Mycroft for the first time in his adult life and the elder Holmes tells him stiffly to back off as he smells of food all the time nowadays. Sherlock cheekily tells him, ‘Jim threw up on me shortly after we left the rooftop’. Mycroft grimaces. 

***

They settle down in Lhasa, Tibet. Peaceful and calm, the air crisp and fresh, the food and water absolutely safe and filled with nutrients, it’s the perfect place for Jim to spend the rest of his pregnancy. They buy a nice Swiss chalet style house in the midst of a homestead and for a few days forget all about the world. They have two servants who take care of cooking and cleaning and laundry while Sherlock devotes all his time to looking after his pregnant mate. Jim starts to gain weight and they resume their sex life since the first trimester is over. Sherlock is gentle and sometimes he even lets Jim top so they can be more versatile. 

Jim is a bundle of hormones sometimes so Sherlock bites back words he wants to say. Like ‘Don’t do brisk walks too much, weight gain in natural during pregnancy’ or ‘If I talk to a woman or a young man it doesn’t mean I want to fuck them’. He says a lot of ‘sorry’ and ‘my bad’ nowadays. 

Two months later they are settled in and Mycroft makes a sudden appearance. He seems pleased with Jim’s protruding belly and gives him several gifts, including an offer from a publishing house for a ten-book contract over the next ten years. Jim is thrilled and says he has some manuscripts ready. Then Sherlock is given marching orders, he has to start work on dismantling the web. Reluctantly Sherlock starts working but Jim is surprisingly strong now, he encourages his alpha to do his duty and assures him he will look after the three of them. Mycroft and Sherlock are thrilled when they realize Jim had been holding a secret. 

He and Sherlock are going to have twins. One boy and one girl. 

“We were both right,” Mycroft says with a tiny smile, “James Junior and Shirlee Holmes.” 

“Sherlock can also be a girl’s name,” Sherlock pouts. 

“NO,” comes the reply from his brother and partner. He is outnumbered two is to one and once again says ‘Sorry, my bad’. 

***

Things go fine and Sherlock keeps coming back for a few days every two weeks to spend time with Jim. He thinks Jim looks beautiful as his pregnancy advances. But….They get a royal scare when Jim goes into labor. 

Sherlock has never seen Jim in any real threat or serious pain. He is alone. He wishes John was with him. He wishes his mum was with him. But this is the life he and Jim chose and they must do this together. 

Every man has his breaking point though and Sherlock’s bravery, already at an all-time low as he holds a panting, wailing Jim’s hand in the delivery room, completely vanishes when the doctor suddenly calls him outside saying he needs to have a word with him. “I am sorry Mr. William Scot, but your partner Isaac is unable to give birth naturally. Twins aren’t a good thing for a male omega to have because they are not that suitable to birthing as women are. He is tired already and his body might give up. So we need to take him into surgery. But in case, just in case, we can’t save all three of them….” 

“Save Ji….I mean Isaac, save my man, my mate,” Sherlock is hyperventilating now, this feels like a bad joke and he detests the kids suddenly. For all his machoism, bravery and sharp brains, he is now just a helpless man who can’t do anything to save his pregnant partner. He regrets a lot of things all of a sudden, like having sex with Jim, not using protection, letting him keep the babies and everything else apart from the relationship he shares with his once arch-nemesis. He can’t lose his Jim, no no no, he can’t have so much happiness in his life and then have it taken away from him so swiftly. “I don’t care about the babies, save my man,” he says as he barely holds back the tears. 

In the end all three are fine. The babies are underweight and need to be in the incubator for a day or two but otherwise they are stable. Jim comes around in a few hours, stable and totally out of any danger. 

“James Junior and Shirlee,” Sherlock says as he kisses the man’s lips. 

“Congratulations daddy,” Jim says weakly. 

“Congratulations papa,” Sherlock responds. 

Later, as Sherlock watches his babies through the glass, he feels an overpowering guilt shoot through his system. It was one thing to know your babies are inside their mother but it was an entirely different thing to see them in flesh and blood, little real human beings. 

‘I don’t care about the babies’ resonates loudly in Sherlock’s head. 

“I am sorry,” Sherlock whispers, “I was too worried about your papa. Forgive your daddy please.” 

***

“Waaaaaaah.” 

“Shirlee is calling you,” Jim grumbles and burrows deeper into the bedclothes, snoring softly. 

Sherlock groans, gets out of bed, shivers as the cold air touches his skin. Pulling on his robe he walks into the nursery through the connecting doors between the two rooms and picks up his daughter. She is soaking wet so he changes her diaper, cleans her and then feeds her, just in case she wakes up an hour later and cries out again. She dozes off and he yawns, returning to bed and hoping to fall asleep the moment his head touches the pillow. 

Instead what touches him is his husband’s erection. 

For someone who was a sworn asexual at one point, Sherlock’s libido is really high at thirty six. Despite being tired and sleepy he is eager to oblige and for the next half an hour only soft moans, light panting and occasional sharp intakes of breath can be heard as he makes love to his Jim. Jim has lost most of the weight gained during pregnancy but he is not bony and rail thin anymore. He has filled out in a nice way and Sherlock loves grabbing those toned biceps, rounded buttocks and fleshier thighs as he drives in and out of Jim’s wet hole. When they come, Jim is asleep almost instantly while the detective cleans them up and falls into bed with a blissed out sigh. 

“Waaaaaaaah.” 

“Your turn Jimmy.” 

“That’s James Jr.” 

“Yeah so?” 

“You always wanted a boy.” 

“Yes, so?” 

“So when he cries he is crying out for you.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Babies can hear from the womb. Listen carefully, he is saying daaaadyyyyy.” 

“But I hear waaaaaah.” 

“He is saying waaaaah dadddddyyyyy waaaaaah.” 

Half an hour later Sherlock finally puts little James to sleep by feeding him, burping him and walking up and down with him. He is very tired, he can fall asleep any moment on his feet, but when he feels those little hands of his son on his shoulder, sees the tiny face of his daughter in her crib and hears Jim snoring softly in the next room, he feels like the luckiest and most fulfilled man on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Jim is the pampered one here. Sherlock tries to be mature for both of them.


	5. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consulting criminal and the consulting detective walk off together into the sunset
> 
> Along with two little mirror images of themselves

Jim decides to settle down in Dublin. That’s where he grew up and that’s where he wants his kids to grow up too. He loves saying ‘I am openly gay and openly Irish’ and returning to his roots makes him happier than he has ever been – aside from becoming Sherlock’s mate and the father of his babies of course. 

But Dublin happens later. First, they move out of Lhasa, where the kids were born and spent their first six months, to Budapest where they spend the next year. Sherlock, after finishing his assignments in Australia, Africa and Asia, has to move to the continent to continue the next leg of his assignment and he of course wants family to be close by. Hence Budapest, again Jim’s choice, as he likes the city quite a bit. 

Finally, they move for a few months to New York City and celebrate the twins’ second birthday there. But the assignment is over by then, Sherlock is summoned back to London and their world travels come to an end. As decided, Jim picks Dublin and Sherlock, with his father’s help, has a nice property in a posh suburb purchased and ready for his family to move into. It’s a nice house with a two-car garage, an indoor swimming pool and gym, five bedrooms, a nice modern kitchen, a cozy den, sitting room and home offices. Surrounding the casa is a garden, with real grass and trees and a sandpit for the children to play in, a backyard where there’s a covered area for barbeque (Jim advises on that, saying it pisses down with rain for most of the year in Ireland). 

Jim has already tasted success with two books published under the pseudo name ‘Isaac Bach’. He is an avid reader and writer and a hands-on father but he still wants a day job. Sherlock argues that he makes enough money for them, there are decent royalties coming from book sales, but Jim wants to work for the sake of knowledge and not for money. He has some money from his earlier life, quite a bit of it in fact, even though he has given up 95% of it when he had retired. 

He gets a job easily as a mathematics professor at Trinity College. His credentials get him the job and he joins as Isaac (his middle name) Holmes. 

They work out an arrangement beautifully. 

Sherlock would spend three weeks in London doing his work and ten days in Dublin thereafter. It would be a dual life but then who would ever question the life of the world’s greatest consulting detective. Yes, John needs to be brought on board. Mary would help. 

“This way you’d never get bored of me,” Jim whispers as they cuddle together on the couch after putting the kids to bed. 

“This way you won’t get tired of me either,” Sherlock replies, “But text me like, seven to ten times a day. Just to tell me the kids are okay.” 

“Just about the kids?” 

“Mmmm, tell me what you’re wearing, all about naked showers, fingering, jerking off, also how’s it going at the college and all that?” 

Jim snickers and lets his hand dip between Sherlock’s legs. Sherlock moans in an exaggerated manner and rumbles in his baritone, “Darling you will burn the calories out of me.” Jim chuckles and adds, “By having sex three to five times a day.” 

***

Years pass and the two former-nemesis turned civil-partners turned devoted-parents to two adorable twins slip quietly into their forties. For Sherlock age is merely a number and a way to become wiser. For Jim aging means nothing because he looks incredibly young. When he drops the twins at school many women give him stares and most of them are young mothers. Sherlock on the other hand has a tiny streak of silver here and there but his skin is still smooth and unlined and Molly Hooper’s assistant, a young man named Alder, is as smitten by him as his boss once was. 

Time flies and suddenly Sherlock is forty-five and Jim is forty-four. 

When they celebrate their ten year ‘anniversary’ and the ninth birthday of their twins, all their friends and family fly to Dublin to be part of the occasion. Jim has reconciled with his elder brother, Irish Brigadier Jeremy Moriarty, and along with Sebastian he is the only one Jim invites to their home. Sherlock invites Mycroft, his aged parents (who can hardly travel much but agree to come over in spite of that), Molly, John and his pretty daughter Rosamund. Some colleagues of Jim’s are also invited, along with a couple of neighbors whom Sherlock gets along well with. 

The barbeque is awesome and Jim and Sebastian grills steaks and shrimps and chicken while Mycroft and Jeremy talk about war and politics. Sherlock’s parents gush and fawn over their grandchildren, including Rosie into that affection, while Molly gets along very well with one of the professors who works with Jim. They chat and exchange numbers. 

Sherlock and John get some time alone. 

“I wish Mary was here,” John says as he looks at Rosie playing with Shirlee. 

“I wish that too,” Sherlock looks saddened. 

John has forgiven him long ago and quickly brightens up his mood by asking him about the twins. “Shirlee is like Jimmy,” Sherlock gushes, “Though she is named after me. She is brilliant at physics and mathematics, very sharp-tongued and has a fiendish streak in her. She has killed a dog that attacked her brother and found a way to clean her room using a robot, which she built out of a beginner’s kit, improvising upon it with a few rejected household items stashed in the basement. She also has his eyes, dark and gorgeous eyes.” 

“And your curly hair,” John replies, “What about little Jim?” 

“Jamie, we call him Jamie. He is a piece of me. Wait and watch. Jamieeee!” 

Jamie comes over and Sherlock points at John, “Tell me about his current girlfriend.” 

Jamie looks at John for barely ten seconds and rattles off his findings. “She has been with him for over five years at least because he seems to have given up trying to look younger than his age. No product in his hair and a haircut overdue. She must be either a teacher or a professor like papa is, because I saw the last open browser page on his mobile before he put it down and it’s a site where you give feedback for teachers. Uncle John looked proud as he stared at the page so I have to say she is a good teacher, respected by her pupils. She is not a good cook though, because I can see nicks and burns on his hands, that can only come from cooking daily in the kitchen. She also has a horrible taste in watches but she loves kids, as uncle John’s Donald Duck watch proves. Any woman who likes such watches is a child at heart I think.” 

John hiccups and lets out a huge chuckle, “Mini Sherlock!!!” 

Moments later one of the neighborhood kids start crying and Shirlee comes inside, looking accomplished. “He was bullying Rosie so I had Kevin take care of him. He isn’t too badly hurt so don’t worry. I didn’t do it myself anyways, so if Kevin gets caught I don’t know him.” 

John gasps, “Mini Moriarty.” 

Later he asks, “Do they know what you guys used to be?” 

Sherlock nods. 

“But you didn’t want to reveal that past. Then why?”

Sherlock grins, “We didn’t. They deduced. Our kids are smart John, a bit too smart perhaps.”

***

“I am so happy to see you happy boss,” Sebastian says as he opens his beer bottle with his teeth, just like earlier. 

Jim hands him a tissue to wipe the moisture on the cold bottle and says, “Why aren’t you married Seb?” 

“I am not marriage material chief,” Sebastian laughs, “Besides that, you left me in charge of a small web, but it’s still too much for me and a full time job. Where is the time to devote to a wife?” He looks handsome even at forty-six, still all sinew and gorgeous blue eyes and blond locks. Jim doesn’t tell him that Shirlee has an ‘uncle crush’ on him. The sniper turned criminal mastermind turned international spy and arms dealer stretches his long legs under the table and adds, “No woman would have me. I am never satisfied with one. I have too big a heart boss, I can accommodate so many of them at the same time. Too bad the chicks never appreciate my generosity and only manage to get jealous.” 

“You’re generous in distributing sperm Sebby,” Jim laughs. 

Sebastian hugs him, “I don’t need a family. I have you, the two kids and of course Sherlock. You chose well. I keep an eye on him when he’s in London, he doesn’t even look at another man or woman.” 

As the day gives way to evening, the guests begin to disperse. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes and John stay in the guest bedrooms while Mycroft and Sebastian choose to stay at hotels. Molly has a friend who she decides to stay with and Jeremy Moriarty returns to his house in Limerick. Sebastian is the last amongst the non-house-guests to leave and when the door shuts after him, Jim notices Sherlock rush out of one of the home offices with an anxious look on his face. The moment he comes face to face with Jim he smiles sheepishly and makes an attempt to duck into the dining room. The former criminal grabs his arm and stops him from doing that. 

“Come to the bedroom,” he says, mindful of the fact that they have house guests, “We need to talk about something.” 

***

“Sherl, I am not going anywhere Sherl.” 

“I know. It’s stupid but then Sebastian is so….good looking and when he left….” 

“You thought I would have left with him?” Jim asks, holding his tall partner in his arms, “Come on Sherl, is this how you still view our relationship after a whole decade? You spend two and half weeks every month in London and for years we have handled those periods of separation so well. We couldn’t have done that had we not trusted each other right? Sebastian is a great friend, someone I care deeply for, but he is just like John is to you. Not meant to be a partner, a soulmate or a spouse.” 

“Speaking of spouse,” Sherlock says, “Mum was asking again if I am going to propose.” 

Jim cocks an eyebrow, “What did you tell her?” 

“That I am very happily not married to you.” 

“Attaboy! A man after my own heart. I am not fond of white weddings and signed papers. Anyways, I still carry your last name. I am Isaac Holmes, not Moriarty.” 

“I am not fond of the marriage concept either. But there is something I wanted to do.” 

Sherlock takes out a plain dull gold band with a diamond, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted into the top of its bridge. “Mum had given dad this before they married, this was their ‘I promise’ ring. Now she wants you to have it baby.” 

He slips the ring on Jim’s ring finger. 

Jim takes out a platinum band with a patterned patch of gold on the surface and a hammered finish. “My elder brother got this for you, told me your fingers look too bare and needs a bit of metal.” Sherlock looks at the ring in wonder. It looks perfect on his long digit. 

Neither man is emotional or sentimental. They don’t do much of romance, for them romance is brain stimulation, courting is intellectual flirting and foreplay is discussing cases and formulas and criminal profiling. Yes the sex is good and they cuddle a lot in private, but at some level they are both uptight men who don’t believe in showing a softer side. But tonight is special and those rings mean a lot to them. No need to marry, just wear my ring, sleep in my arms at night, share your joys and woes with me and raise two wonderful kids together. Jim blushes under Sherlock’s intense gaze and Sherlock feels warm and happy in Jim’s arms. 

They kiss. 

“Daddy and papa sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” 

They jump apart and see their twins at the doorway. 

Shirlee is playful and has a dangerously alluring smile, she can be sarcastic and bold. It’s she who had spoken up. In a sing-song voice, just like Jim. 

“Just put a do not disturb board here if you please,” James Jr. adds. 

Matter of fact and icy, brief in speech yet plentiful in insight, that’s their boy. Just like Sherlock. 

 

The end (Or beginning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the sappy love story. Thanks for reading, kudos and commenting!
> 
> Andrew Scott's look in 'Denial' is my head canon for Professor Moriarty.


End file.
